


You Look So Good In Red

by FelicityMarks



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Blood, Bloodplay, Knifeplay, Light Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quick and Dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 00:53:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelicityMarks/pseuds/FelicityMarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, The Master, and a knife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Look So Good In Red

The Doctor’s back arched and his fingers dug into the arms of the chair. He was bound, wrists and ankles to the chair he was sitting in. His shirt was ripped open down the front and hanging, soaked with sweat, around his shoulders. The Master was standing in front of the chair, a wild look in his eyes, licking drips of The Doctor’s blood from the blade of a knife.

\--

It had all started so suddenly; The Doctor fiddling around in the console room, muttering to himself and having one-sided conversations with the TARDIS. The Master sliding silently up behind him, slipping his hands around The Doctor’s waist, nibbling on his neck. The Doctor’s eyes fluttering closed as his hands still on the console. A sharp intake of breath as The Master’s teeth graze over soft skin.

The Master trails his hand up the milky skin of The Doctor’s neck and twines his fingers into a handful of tawny hair. Without warning, The Master spins his lover around presses their bodies together, The Doctor’s hips pressed rudely into the edge of the console. The Master yanks The Doctor’s head back by his handful of hair and bites hard into that sweet spot where neck meets shoulder. The bite produces a sharp intake of breath that becomes a moan that’s equal parts pleasure and pain. After a moment, The Master pulls back and smiles. A bite shaped bruise already forming. He looks into The Doctor’s deep brown eyes and finds fear and apprehension, but also burning need. A sly, slightly manic smile slides over his lips because The Doctor has every reason to be afraid.

The Master grabs a handful of The Doctor’s shirt and tosses him into the chair placed a few steps away. He grabs a tangle of restraints from a pile by the chair and quickly and efficiently cuffs The Doctor’s wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the chair. With a snarl he rips The Doctor’s shirt down the front, buttons flying in all directions. The Doctor glares up at The Master, the struggle between fear and lust readily apparent on his features. His eyes go wide as The Master produces a thin, wicked-looking knife and draws his thumb over the edge, raising a line of blood.

The Master handles the knife lightly, enjoying the way The Doctor’s eyes are glued to it, following every gleam; his breath coming quickly as his mind flips through all the possibilities, all the ways The Master could use that blade. The Master walks slowly around behind the chair and out of The Doctor’s view. He steps close and reaches his arm down across The Doctor’s chest, resting the point of the knife on the spot where the pulse beats furiously in The Doctor’s neck.

“Such a fragile thing, skin,” The Master says in a husky whisper, his breath blowing over The Doctor’s ear. He feels a shiver pass through The Doctor’s body at his words, and an echoing shiver deep down in his mind. He trails the point of the knife slowly down over The Doctor’s skin, pressing harder as he passes one sculpted collarbone and drawing a thin line of blood. The Doctor draws in a sharp breath as the knife parts his skin but he doesn’t move. The Master raises the knife to the other side of The Doctor’s neck and draws it down again, pressing harder this time. Just barely avoiding cutting open the artery on the side of The Doctor’s neck; coming within a hair’s breadth of killing him. This brings a small moan from the bleeding man, just barely audible. The waves of fear tinged with pleasure washing into The Master’s mind make him all the more giddy, all the more aroused, all the more _dangerous_.

The Master slowly stalks around to stand in front of the chair, taking in the helpless man before him. The trails of blood running along his sharply accentuated collarbones and coming together at the delicious hollow of his neck; the sight of his cock stirring in his pants. A scene to be savored. The Doctor’s pupils are dilated in pain and pleasure, his breath coming quickly. The Doctor opens his mouth to speak but his words become a strangled growl as in a few quick motions, The Master open up a number of wicked cuts across The Doctor’s ribs. The bound man crying out with wordless moans and trying to pull away at each new flash of the knife. All his struggling amounts to nothing as The Master places his hand on The Doctor’s chest and holds him still. The Master bends his head to his work as he drags the knife ever so slowly across The Doctor’s stomach, torturously opening a series of long cuts. The Doctor struggles and tries to pull away moaning low in his throat; but the more he struggles, the more force The Master uses to push him back down. The Doctor’s chest is painted with bright lines of blood, each breath sending new flashes of pain across his skin. The two lock eyes as The Master brings the knife to his lips and slowly licks the blood off the blade.

The Doctor shifts and arches his back in the chair, keenly aware of how he must look: trapped, bloodied, and aching for The Master’s touch. He drops his eyes from The Master’s face and speaks, his breathing ragged, “Please…”

“Please?” The Master says in a sneering voice, “Please what?”

“I…” The Doctor trails off, dropping his eyes.

The blow comes fast and hard across The Doctor’s cheek, snapping his head to the side.

“Use my name.” His tone was cold.

“Please… Master,” barely a whisper

“Again.”

“…Master”

“Louder!”

“Master!” The Doctor spits the word, hating himself for needing The Master’s touch. Wanting him so badly that everything else fades into white noise. He raises his eyes to see The Master with his hand massaging his own eager cock through the fabric of his pants, a dangerous glitter in his eye.

“Much better.”

He drops the knife to the ground with a clatter and straddles The Doctor’s lap, hands in his hair. He pulls The Doctor’s head back and crushes their lips together. “It’s always the danger for you isn’t it?” The Master says in gasps between the press of their lips, knowing he’s right but enjoying the shame and discomfort speaking the words aloud causes The Doctor, “You get off on the fact that I could have killed you.” As hard as The Doctor tries to deny it, knowing that The Master is more than enough of a madman to kill him makes him all the more aroused.

They are a tangle of lips and tongues, breathy moans and The Master’s growls as he bites down on the other man’s lips, unable to contain himself. The Doctor can taste his own blood on The Master’s tongue, something that shouldn’t leave him as desperate as it does. He can feel The Master’s violent need slithering into the very center of his mind. He bucks his hips up, pain flaring and mixing with pleasure in a way that leaves him stunned. The Master runs his hands down The Doctor’s chest, to the zipper of his pants.

In a moment, The Master has The Doctor’s cock free of its constraining cloth. His hands sick with blood, he pumps The Doctor’s hardness. The Doctor pushes his hips up to meet The Master’s hand, moaning and digging his fingernails into the arms of the chair. The Master’s motions are quick and urgent, and he soon has The Doctor on the brink. “Oh, fuck… please. I…” The Doctor is almost incoherent. Maintaining his pace and pressure, The Master leans close and whispers, “Cum for me.” All at once The Doctor throws his head back and moans, his load spilling over his stomach and The Master’s hand. After he has ridden his orgasm to the last shuddering wave, the Doctor opens his eyes to see The Master standing and unzipping his pants. The Master pulls out his hard length places one knee on the seat of the chair beside The Doctor and leans in. The tip of him just brushes The Doctor’s lips.

“Suck,” he says, placing a hand on the back of The Doctor’s head.

His eyes flutter closed and he moans deep in his throat as The Doctor takes his Master’s cock into his mouth, running an agile tongue around the head.

“Ah, _fuck_ yes.” The Master breathes as The Doctor’s head bobs down, taking his whole length deep into his throat, running the point of his tongue along the underside of the shaft, a tiny flick at the top of every stroke. With a growl, The Master pushes down on The Doctor’s head, fucking his mouth without mercy. He can feel his orgasm building, the waves of pleasure radiating from the base of his cock and deep in his swollen balls. A deep groan bursts out of him as he pulls The Doctor’s head down and holds it there, shooting his cum deep into The Doctor’s throat. The Doctor swallows eagerly and makes one last, slow stroke with his tongue after he is released.

The Master leans down and gives The Doctor a quick but passionate kiss and begins to undo the restraints, the tastes of blood and cum mingling on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this one has been sitting in my head for a long time. This will be my first posted work, so I hope you like it. Critiques welcome! If there’s something I could have done better, please let me know! I feel like I've got the smut part down pretty well, it's the characters and psychological stuff I need practice with.
> 
> Also, I know this is not news to anyone around here ;P, but man is it hard to write a scene between two male characters without too much awkward grammar. I tried!


End file.
